


A Past Nearly Forgotten

by Overly_Sarcastic_Teenager



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU-Certain Characters Live, Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Might abandon, OC, Possible smut, i dont know yet, just bare with me, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:52:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overly_Sarcastic_Teenager/pseuds/Overly_Sarcastic_Teenager
Summary: What if Jon Snow didn't go to the Wall so young? What if the reason he left was because he had a life, a wife pregnant with his child, the love of his family, the world at his finger tips(or at least as much as a bastard could have) and lost it all?This is the story of how a simple bastard girl from the Riverlands fell in love with a seemingly simple bastard boy from the North. Share in their laughter, their tears, and their tragedy.The last war was started because a man loved a woman, why not this one as well?





	1. Chapter 1

        Maey Rivers was a simple girl. Her grandmother had been a kitchen girl in Lord Hoster Tully's castle since before his youngest daughter, the Lady Lysa, had been born. Her mother, Valeria Cannis, was handmaiden to Lady Minsa, and her father an unknown groom of an unknown knight who briefly visited the keep and left when she was just a quickening in her mother's belly. She worked as a messenger for Lord Hoster until he took notice of her fine needlework, instead placing her to work as a seamstress. The Tullys were good to their household, always making sure there was food in her belly and a warm hearth to sleep by. They never even batted an eye at her surname. Lord Edmure, with his bushy red beard and long red hair, would occasionally pass out small sweets to the younger of their servants. He was her favorite of Lord Hoster's children, mainly because his daughters were long married and off to their husband's castles by the time Maey herself could walk, but she still loved to sit at her mother's feet by the fire in the kitchens after a long day and listen to Valeria tell stories of when she would mind the two young ladies and of the trouble they and the Lord's ward would get into. Those were her happiest memories, sitting on the floor with some bit of stitching while her mother combed and braided her long chestnut hair. The sounds of her mother's voice still ring in her head at night, lulling her to sleep even on the coldest of nights. 

 

        Now she was a woman grown at three and twenty, although she had not yet been married there was still hope in her heart that on this new venture she could find a man who didn't mind the surname Rivers or her lack of a dowry. Lord Hoster himself had called her to his personal library to inform her that in two months time would be his eldest daughter's nameday and that he wished to send Maey as her gift. "You are a skilled seamstress, my dear, and I am sure the Lady Catelyn would love new dresses made in the fashion of the South whenever she pleased. She has two daughters of her own, you see, so you shan't be wanting for work. Take this, it contains my well wishes for my daughter and my grandchildren. The rest my son, Lord Edmure, shall provide you on the morrow when you depart. Sleep well, my dear, I want you horsed and ready to ride immediately after you break your fast. Am I clear, my child?"

 

        Maey gave her Lord a deep curtsey, "As crystal, My Lord. I grew up on joyful tales of the Lady Catelyn from my mother, I shall look forward to meeting her Lady in person." The young girl takes the sealed parchment from his hand and makes sure not to crease the paper. The ability to read is a rare one for those who are not nobility or Maesters, and that lacking has not skipped over Maey herself. Every piece of paper that someone has deigned to write on, be it a scribbling mess of notes from a Maester's exam or a love letter between sweethearts, is something special. "Is there anything else you would like from me, My Lord?"

 

        The ageing man shakes his head, and waves her away with a tired hand, "No, go about your business. And you have my permission to go to bed early if you desire. The Road to Winterfell is a long and tiring journey where you will be sleeping on the earth more often than a bed."

 

         With that dismissal, and a final curtsey, Maey left the Lord's library and decided she shall pack what little she had so she may be ready precisely when her Lod told her to. Her life was going to change forever tomorrow morning, and Gods be good Maey Rivers was going to be prepared for it.


	2. Chapter 2

 

            The North was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow, the leaves on the trees crowned with frost and the streams gurgling through frozen riverbeds. The scenery as a whole was like a painting, so still Maey was hesitant to even breath so she wouldn't disturb the beautiful sight. 

 

            Lord Hoster had given her many fabrics to make dresses for Lady Catelyn and her daughters, ranging in all colors and textures as well as beads of moon stone, shell and bone. With such rich cargo Lord Edmure had sent a host of twenty guards, with horses and wagons to carry supplies and belongings. Maey sat atop a plain brown mare with a rough spun cloak over a heavy woolen dress, the cloak's hood pulled over her head to protect from the biting cold wind. That was the only downside in her eyes. It was colder than the last Winter she had lived through by far, the chill seeping into her bones and settling deep in the marrow. Every night Maey huddled close to the cook fires, debating whether or not to simply shove her hands and feet into the flames in attempt to drive out the numbness. Her Lord had placed value into what her hands and fingers and if she were to loose them she would be useless to him, and that would place her on the streets with naught but what is between her legs to earn a living. Whoring is a trade, but is not the trade she would wish to enter.

 

           The entire journey took two months, with the host riding everyday and resting every night. At first it was like a grand adventure, with traveling beyond the keep and seeing all the new lands. But with every league the weather got colder and colder, with snow creeping into the foreground more and more until the world was a vast expanse of snow. It sparkled in the sunlight, making everything magical as if in a dream. 

 

           Finally Wintertown came into view, with the deep grey walls of Winterfell looming behind the thatched rooves. Maey turns to the captain of their group, his long white beard nearly blending in with the snowy background. "How long would you say we are, My Lord?"

          

          The elderly man laughs at her, "I am no lord, child, I am just a man in Lord Tully's service, same as you. I would say we have yet two or three hours ride ahead of us, putting or arrival just after midday. The Lord Eddard Stark should be expecting us, ravens were sent but if someway or another you still have Lord Hoster's letter, yeah?"

 

         Maey nods, clutching at the small pocket inside her cloak where the letter addressed to Lady Catelyn was secured. "I kept it warm a dry the entire way."

 

         He laughs at that, his voice a cheerful boom in the otherwise quite area. "That you did, lass, that you did. Now enough with this lollygagging. Lets get a move on, you have dresses to sew and I have another two months ride before I get to see my sweet wife again." The man kicked his horse into a brisk trot, spurring all the other mounts to follow along. Maey happily let the mare lead, instead taking in what would be her home until Lady Catelyn decided she no longer needed her. Hopefully it will not be for the rest of her life, thought Maey, for she would never tire of the beauty that is the North.

 

         The next few hours passed by as if in a blink of an eye. Before Maey realized the tall and formidable walls of Winterfell were already casting shadows over her and her escort, looming over their heads. The yard was busy with servants, knights, dogs, and horses with a sharp clamor from the smithy ringing over everything. An elderly man in maester's robes stands among the chaos, smiling up at the riders entering the yard. He waits patiently for them all to dismount, his hands folded into his wide sleeves and metal chain clinking gently in the wind. Once Maey stepped before him and gave a polite curtsey, he looked the girl over with a critical yet not unkind eye. "And who might you be, my dear?"

 

          "I am Maey Rivers, Maester, Lord Hoster Tully sends me as a nameday gift for his daughter Lady Catelyn. This is a letter my lord has written for the lady and his grandchildren." Maey holds out the rolled parchment to the man, her hand trembling from cold and nerves. "I am a seamstress, sir."

 

           The man smiles at her, his face filling with warmth. "Lord Edmure's missive told us as much, although he neglected to inform us of your name. No matter, you have arrived precisely on time for Lady Catelyn's nameday feast. I shall show you to your rooms, you shall be boarding with the Steward's daughter, a Miss Jeyne Poole. The two of you are of an age, though I do believe she is a year or two your junior. My name is Maester Luwin. Our steward's name is Vayon Poole, and he would have greeted you himself if not for the preparations needed for tonight's festivities. You have been allowed an hour, to settle and change before you are to be presented to the Lady Stark during her feast. After you will be at the disposal of the Lady, and her two daughters Lady Sansa and Lady Arya. When not working on commissions from them, you will help with the general sewing of the house. The Lord and Lady of the house have five children, two daughters and three sons. I am quite sure the women we have in charge of garbing the young Lords would appreciate a helping hand with their allotment as well. Ah, here we are my dear. This is your room here." The an pulls a ring of keys from his sleeve and unlocks the heavy wooden door, pushing it open to reveal a comfortably sized room with two beds covered in warm looking furs. "Your place is on the left, with your cupboard and chest along that wall. Please feel free to make yourself comfortable, this is your new home after all. Now I shall take my leave, as I said you have an hour to make yourself presentable. I shall send someone to bring you tot he great hall."

 

          With those final words, Maester Luwin left Maey alone in her new room. A man, who is incredibly large, comes in after carrying her small trunk of belongings. Maey smiles up at him, "Thank you, you can put it wherever there is room."

 

         "Hodor." Was all the man said, but he said it with a kind smile on his open face so Maey took it as something nice. He set down the trunk at the foot of her bed and left the room with a final "Hodor" before he ducked under the doorway. Maey started on the task of unpacking her trunk and putting away her things, leaving her best dress and shoes out to air before she went searching for her only bit of jewelry. It was wrapped in scrap fabric in the middle of her dresses, protected against the rough terrain of the King's Road. Maey sat on her bed, carefully unwrapping the fabric to reveal a simple hair net decorated with bits of colored glass. It was a bride gift for her grandmother from her grandfather, passed down to preserve what their love meant. In actuality the plain netting would not be worth more than a few coppers, but to Maey it was worth more than the King's crown itself. She recalls how she saw her mother wear the hair net on her wedding day, a marriage to a smith under Lord Hoster's employ. Maey loved her mother's husband, he had been as much a father she could hope for, and even gifted her mother with two more children, a set of twin boys. Valeria had given her daughter the hair net when Maey had told her she was leaving for Winterfell. She had tears in her eyes and many a sweet word on her lips, placing the jewelry in her daughter's hands and insisting she keep it.

 

        "Mother, this should go to your true born children, I am nothing." Maey had tried giving the hair net back to her mother, but Valeria had shaken her head and insisted.

 

        "What use would a boy have with a woman's hair net? You are my daughter, it goes to you and I will not hear another word. You will need a bit of me whenever you get homesick so you dont come galivanting back here."

 

         Maey ran a finger over the fine netting, nothing more than dyed thread but it was beautiful just the same. Once all of her things had been put away, Maey set about getting herself presentable for the Lords and Ladies of Winterfell. She had chosen a simple blush colored dress with long sleeves and a high neck. It was made from a heavy fabric that would help protect her from the cold, although she should find some bit of fur to sew along the cuff and collar to help even more. She paired it with simple brown leather shoes, made to keep water out from the feet, and a chain of brass links around her waist to accentuate her slender frame. After she had brushed her hair free of tangles, Maey pinned the hair net in place before stepping in front of the mirror on the other side of the room to look herself over. The pale pink made her grass colored eyes shine, and the glass beads caught the light with each colored bead, seven colors for the seven Gods, whenever she turned her head. She was not richly garbed, but she was properly dressed based on her station and the dress was one of her own creation, made from fabric a dyer was going to toss out because the color didn't turn out correctly, so she thought it was excusable because it showed her skill. 

 

        There was a knock on her door, not too loud but still enough to make no question about their presence. Maey took one last chance to smooth out the front of her dress before answering the door, finding a young man on the other side. He had dark, curly hair and light eyes with stubble on his chin suggesting he had been freshly shaven either this morning or last night. Maey opened the door fully, curtseying to him and avoiding his eyes, not wanting to offend him. "Hello, Sir, I am Maey Rivers."

 

       The man nods to her, his face solemn and blocked off. "I am Jon Snow, I was sent to escort you to Lady Stark's nameday feast." 


	3. Chapter 3

 

              Maey took his offered arm, the padding of his dark grey tunic cushioning her fingers and making them tingle with heat. She quietly looks at him under her lashes, nervous about being so close to a male. He was tall, with a long face and strong jaw. What intrigued her most about Jon Snow were his eyes. They were slate grey, intense and brooding giving away nothing about his inner thoughts. She liked his eyes, she was used to the kind of eyes that expressed all that went behind them and left nothing to guess.

 

             "Is Rivers the bastard name of the Riverlands?" Jon Snow broke the silence with his abrupt question. He merely glanced at her with his stone eyes, his mouth in a frown as if he were expecting to be disappointed.

 

            Maey turned her head away, watching the flickering of torches on the walls. "It is, my mother is a maid in Lord Tully's service and my father was a groom for a knight who visited shortly at Riverrun. She doesn't even remember his name, or even the name of the knight he served."  She turned her head back towards the man, her eyes looking right into his. "I am sure you aren't thrilled to be escorting a bastard, especially a plain girl bastard." Maey gave a small laugh, finding her own words ridiculous. She grew up with not caring about her name, it was what she did that made people either respect or hate her. Maey went back to looking at the wall going past them, marveling in the craftmanship still standing since Bran The Builder first founded the massive keep.

 

            "I am Lord Stark's bastard." His voice was so nonchalant and bored Maey almost thought she misheard him. She found herself staring at him again, her eyes wide as his warmed just slightly. "My Lord father met my mother while he was fighting in the rebellion with the King. I dont know what happened to her, all I know is that when he returned home from war his Lady wife presented him with a son, and he presented her with me. I've been living here ever since with my half brothers and sisters."

 

           Maey gave his arm a gentle squeeze, smiling up at him. "Then I guess we know why you were sent to collect me. Two of a kind. They probably assumed we would be able to speak on our shared experiences." She caught the corners of Jon's mouth twitch up into a hint of a smile at her jest, even though it was a poor attempt at one. 

 

            When they arrived at the Great Hall the feast was nearly beginning. Men and women of all stations sat along long wooden tables and serving girls flitted about, filling cups with ale and wine. At the high table sat the Lord and his family along with the invited guests from other highborn families of the North. Everything around the two was alive and buzzing with conversation and laughter. Maey felt her heart leap with joy at finding that the Northern people weren't as cold as their home, instead they were jovial and left her with a feeling of welcome. As they walked down the aisle between all the long tables, men lifted their mugs to Jon. In return her escort nodded to them, a small acknowledgement but meaningful just the same. It comforted Maey, telling her at Northern people couldn't care less about if you were a bastard or not. At least, that is what she liked to think. 

 

            Jon lead her to in front of the high table, the murmured conversations slowly dying off as the high born took notice of the young woman standing before them. Maey gave a low curtsey, bowing her head and waiting to be given permission to speak. However, Jon has decided to do something else.

 

           "My Lords and Ladies, I present Miss Maey Rivers of Riverrun." Jon placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward, a sly smile covering his face and mischief in his eyes. Lord Stark looked amused and Lady Catelyn simply watched her with calculating eyes.

 

            Maey curtsied again, now even more nervous. "My Lord Tully sent me as nameday gift to Lady Stark. I come bearing fabrics, beads, and a letter from Lord Hoster for his beloved daughter and grandchildren." She held out the roll of parchment sealed with House Tully's mark. A young squire came forth and took the letter from her hand, delivering it to Lady Catelyn who accepted it with a smile and nod. She turned back to Maey, her eyes looking over her dress and hair, judging how she has presented herself.

 

           "And what is your trade, Miss Rivers?" Lady Stark's voice was questioning, as if he expected her father to send her an untrained girl who would simply take up room and food.

 

            "I am a seamstress, My Lady. I made dresses for your Lady mother before she passed and I have made dresses for your sister when she came to visit at Riverrun." At the mentions  of her mother and sister Lady Catelyn seemed to relax, a small smile playing on her lips.

 

            She turned to her two daughters, one looking like a young version of herself and another who was obviously related to Jon. "It seems your grandfather has sent us a skilled seamstress, just in time for the tourney too!" The lady returns her gaze to Maey, "I thank you for making the journey here to our home. I promise you meat and mead, clothes on your back and a place by my hearth."

 

            With that, Maey was dismissed to enjoy the feast with the rest of the common folk. Jon took hold of her arm and lead her to a table filled with women old and some, some were even still small girls. "You should sit here, with the other seamstresses and kitchen girls." Without even waiting for her thanks he left, sitting among the guardsmen and smiths as they greet him with a cheer and lifted mugs.

 

           "Dont stare after the little lord, girl. Come, sit. Have some barley stew and the brown bread is fresh, I made it me self." An elderly woman waves her over and holds out a trencher of delicious looking bread. Maey goes and sits next to her, accepting the offering and filling it with a stew that smelled wonderfully of onions, garlic, and mushrooms. Maey was eager for the hot food, the only hot meals on the journey were what the men could hunt on the road, and as it grew more and more cold they went out hunting less and less. "You are too skinny, you wont be surviving no Winters here in the North being just skin and bones. Later they will bring out the chickens and rabbits, maybe even a deer or two. You should eat as much as you can, we wont be eating this good until the young ladies' namedays in two months. I'm Bridgette, by the way. I make the bread and pies." 

 

           Bridgette loaded Maey's plate with roasted roots and various meats, continuing on about putting on more weight and how she looked like a new born deer. Maey simply smiled and accepted the food, never one to turn down a good meal and kind conversation. Every now and again she found her eyes drifting to where Jon Snow sat, where he laughed and jested with the men around him. Occasionally, he would look at her as well, making a silent toast to her before downing his mead and calling for more. Maey didn't know what it was about that man, but she wanted to speak to him more


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so surprised at the popularity of this fan fiction. I literally uploaded the first chapter four days ago and it is already at 930 views! Gotta say that is super motivating and I am happy so many people are reading something I wrote.
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by a broken heating unit, Moscato wine, and Caesar salad.

         Lady Sansa was the first to approach her in her quarters the day after the feast, her fine and delicate face regal yet still kind.

 

          "I'm bored by all my dresses. They all have the same cut and style, I've been wearing the pattern since I was thirteen. I'm nineteen, a woman grown and I would like something more mature in a style the old women who have never left the North. Their designs are old fashioned, I want something new and young, but appropriate for a high born Lady." She pulls at the collar of her dress, it was made of a thick damask all the way to her throat. "This is practical, yes, but the weather is getting warmer and I am no little girl. I would like a much lower neckline." While she spoke, Maey was gathering her measuring supplies along with papers to make her notes. She ushered Lady Sansa to stand on a small stool in the middle of her work space.

 

         Maey went and closed the door, making sure it was secure before walking back to Lady Sansa. "Would you mind if I disrobed you, My Lady? I would like to take some measurements. I promise it will not take long." Sansa nods and allows for Maey to take off the layers of her dress, leaving her standing in her small clothes. Maey then took the measurements, making small notes on her paper. She couldn't read, but she was taught how to write numbers so she could make her patterns. Midway through her work there was a knock at the heavy wooden door. Maey quickly helped Sansa into a thick robe she kept for situations just like this then answered the door, keeping it partially closed and blocking the view into the room with her body. Outside was Jon Snow, weighed down with heavy robes and thick fur.

 

          Last night after the feast Jon had lead her back to her shared room with Jayne Poole. He was much more relaxed than before, more or less from wine, so when she turned to say goodnight he interrupted her. "You should be careful. The men were talking about you throughout the feast. They started placing bets on who would take your maidenhood, or even if you were still a maiden." After a moment of Maey standing in shocked silence, Jon continued while moving slightly closer. "You are a maiden, aren't you?"

 

         The question shook Maey from her stunned haze, her brow furrowing and her words coming out like acid, "The status of my maidenhead is for myself and my future husband to know. It is not to be common knowledge for the entire castle to be discussing!" Before he could get another word in, Maey retreated into her room and closed the door securely in his face, ending the conversation beyond question. 

 

        Now the same man stood before her again, his brow knitted together as if what he was deciding to say pained him. "I would like to ask if you would take a walk with me, if your work would allow."

 

         Maey shook her head, "I am with Lady Sansa, she has commissioned a dress and I am taking her measurements. I will be another half an hour on that, then I would work on patterns until the evening meal." With her words, Jon's brow furrowed even more in disappointment. Maey was about to give him a curtsey and close the door, but Lady Sansa decided to instead speak up.

 

       "Allow her an hour, to finish my measurements and to put on a dress suited more to the weather." Maey glanced back at the young Lady, her eyes wide. "I dont need this dress within the week, and I am sure my mother, sister, and other women and girls in the castle will come asking you for dresses and other garments until the hour before the tourney. Talk the time for leisure when you can, I promise you wont get much if your skills are as good and my grandfather claims they are."

 

         All Maey could do was nod, turning back to the young man still waiting outside the door. "As my Lady says, I would like an hour, please."

 

        Jon nodded, his face relaxing and he stepped back from the door, "An hour. I will be back."

 

        Once again, before he could say more Maey closed the door, going back to Lady Sansa and resuming her work. She worked silently, biting her lip while thinking of all the possibilities why Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell would want to walk with her. Could he be meaning to apologize for his words last night? No, if it were something like that he would have simply asked to speak with her. What else could a young man, let alone the bastard son of a High Lord, want with a seamstress? It couldn't be clothing, again he would have simply said so. Perhaps he is being instructed to spend time with her, either Lady Catelyn or his father thinking that the two bastards would find friendship in the other. Yes,, that makes much more sense. He would continue to speak to her until the Lords and Ladies of Winterfell realized that all Maey wanted was to work, and that Jon Snow should be left alone to do what he did normally. 

 

          "If you stay so distracted your handwriting will become even worse. If you had been using pins I am sure I would have been stuck thrice by now." Lady Sansa's voice was ice to the back of her neck, waking her up from her day dream and reminding her of what she is doing. 

 

         "I am sorry, my Lady, I was lost in thought." Maey looked at her notes and scowled at the messy lines, fixing a few to make then]m easier to see.

 

         "About Jon? I dont see why. I could tell you all about him in just a few words. He is honest, with plain speech he will tell you exactly what he is thinking even if I will hurt. He prefers simple clothing without patterns and with few colors. He fights very well, as he should for how many years he has been training. He does allow himself one vanity. His hair is his pride and he absolutely despises when Mother makes him cut it. Last time he went hunting into the Wolfswood for an entire week because the barber went far too short with his sheers. There, now you shall have the upper hand when he takes you on your walk. Although I dont know why you refused him, he is reliable so he would make a rather good friend to have."

 

        "I am a seamstress from Riverrun, the only time I should interact with the children of a Lord is when I am sewing them their clothing. I am baseborn, worse a baseborn bastard." Lady Sansa looked at Maey queerly at her words, their sting directed at no one but Maey herself.

 

        "Jon isn't like that. None of us are. If that was all you were then Grandfather wouldn't have spent all that gold and sent all those men to escort you here." Sansa's words were so matter of fact they made Meay's fingers pause, her eyes glancing up at the red headed beauty before her.

 

        She put her head down to hide the smile spreading across her face, "Thank you, my Lady. Those are very kind words."

 

      "You can thank me by making sure I have the finest dress at the tourney. I don't plan on being a maid forever."

       


	5. Chapter 5

 

             Jon came back nearly an hour on the dot, if a little early. Lady Sansa was long gone, she had left as soon as she was decent with a wink and a sly smile as she glided out of Maey's ironwood door. Maey started by pulling fabric from the shelves on the back wall. Lord Stark had given her her own workshop, located next to the kitchen and under the Ladies' solar so she may be within reach of them at all times. While small, it was warm and dry and had enough storage to hold all of the fine cloth, beads, thread, and all other things she would need to make beautiful dresses for at least a full season. She busied herself with choosing fabrics in colors she thought would go with Lady Sansa's coloring, and some that one usually wont pair with the redheaded young lady but Maey thought would look lovely on her just the same. She kept telling herself that she would not dress herself in any of her good clothes, that the simple brown woolen dress she was in would do fine. She was just looking into the mirror shoved in the corner of her workroom when there was a loud knock at her door. Maey went to open it, finding Jon Snow on the other side with his perpetually morose face covered in dark scruff and framed with dark, curly hair that blends in with the dark furs of his cloak. 

 

           "Are you ready for our walk, my lady?" Jon's eyes remain a passive silver as they stare into Maey's green eyes. The young woman turns from the man, pulling her cloak from its hook by the door. While the rooms inside the keep were kept warm with hearths and the hot water running through the walls, outside of the stone it still snowed. 

 

          After she had wrapped the cloak securely around her shoulders. Maey steps out of her workshop and closes the heavy ironwood door behind her. "I am no Lady, my Lord. Just a base born girl who uses her skills to serve her Lords and Ladies."

 

         Jon chuckled as he lead her out to the yard, small delicate snow flakes were falling from the grey sky and covering everything in a beautiful sparkling blanket. "I am no Lord, either. My mother died, so my father took me here. I'll never bare the name Stark."

 

        Maey had stopped to watch the snow fall, holding out her hand to catch the flakes on her leather gloves. "You could become a knight, and make your own house. Perhaps you shall be Ser Jon Grimface, in honor of your permanent scowl." A small smile played on Maey's lips when she say Jon's mouth droop even lower at her comment, making him look as if he was pouting. She might even have laughed, if it wasn't for the look of complete terror that over came her tanned and freckled face when she saw the monstrous white beast that was silently making its way to Jon's back. Its red eyes seemed to glow like a demon's, and Maey was about to scream when Jon finally turned and the beast leaped on top of him. Only Jon was not screaming, nor was he struggling. When the monster had pushed him over he had laughed, and started play fighting with the gigantic wolf. Maey still found herself scared of the thing. It looked like a wolf, but was near the size of a horse and had long claws and fangs that looked they could rip her to ribbons.

 

        Once he had gotten the wolf off of his chest, Jon stood and brushed the snow now sticking to his trousers and cloak, some even strewn throughout his hair and beard. "Ghost you cheeky brut, I was talking." He turned his laughing grey eyes at Maey, their mirth only growing when he took in her terrified face. "Be calm, Maey. This is Ghost, he is a dire wolf. My siblings and I keep them as pets. You will see the others soon enough, but be sure that if they do not approach you first to leave them be. Even the most tame of their pack has been known to cripple a man when she felt threatened. Ghost here is kind enough, I trust him with my life and you will learn to trust him as well. Might as well, seeing as you will be living her for the rest of your life."

 

        Maey took a slow step forward, the snow and gravel crunching underneath her step. The dire wolf finally took notice of her, his haunting red eyes locking onto the girl and watching as she made her way carefully to Jon's side. She glanced between the man and the wolf, her eyes wide with fear. "Will he hurt me?"

 

     Jon shook his head, going to one knee and wrapping an arm around Ghost's neck. "Now Ghost, this is Maey. She is nice, and if you are nice too she might give you a treat or a scratch once in a while. Say hello, and be careful of her fingers, she needs them to work." At his master's command Ghost steps towards Maey, nuzzling her hand with his snout and sniffing. Maey took off her glove and turned her palm out to the wolf for him to sniff, remembering that the kennel master in Riverrun told her the best way for a dog to meet you is by your scent. His nose was wet against her palm, his breath warm. He gave a tentative lick, nothing like the joyful bombardment he had given to Jon's face before, but it was gentle and served to relax Maey. "There you go, see? She is a nice lady." Jon stood and offered Maey a handkerchief from his pocket, "Here, you might want to wipe off your hand before putting your glove back on."

 

        She accepted it, her eyes still on Ghost. "He is beautiful. do all the dire wolves have his coloring?" After sliding on her glove, Maey returns Jon's handkerchief, which he quickly stashes away again.

 

       "No, Ghost is an albino. All the wolves look different, but you can tell them apart from regular wolves by their size. Sansa's Lady is the smallest from the litter and she stands a quarter taller than a normal wolf, while Rob's Grey Wind is the largest and stands a good four inches taller than Nymeria. But you will know more about the wolves as you get to know their master's. I wanted to walk with you to show you Winterfell, and time permitting Wintertown as well." Jon held out his elbow to Maey with Ghost taking his place at her other side.

 

         "I dont know about all that. I may now belong at Winterfell, but I am still a Southerner and I dont know how long I can stand this cold for." Maey took Jon's elbow and he started to lead, Ghost falling in at a lazy trot. Maey reached out her free hand and gave him a scratch between his ears, smiling at the fuzzy warmth she can feel through her gloves.

 

            He companion smiled again, turning her thought a small gate in the yard. "Lets start with the Godswood, then."


End file.
